I once knew a girl—a living Russian doll—

who lived inside herself inside herself in side her

self, and arranged her memories in a

library of half lived days,

half-forgotten in the morning

because exhaustion is exhausting and my car’s

exhaust is theoretical, because

I could leave this place behind if I had a car.

If I had learned how to drive.

 

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T.R. Cook is not so patiently waiting for the day she can leave Earth behind and live out her days in a human/robot society. Until then, she writes and can be found on twitter @quantumseas.